


I'm Going to Pretend that This is Okay

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angsty Charles, F/M, M/M, unrequieted love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik live together. Charles is ridiculously in love with Erik, while Erik is obliviously in love with Magda. Charles has a habit of writing letters to Erik that he will never see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I hate how much you love her. You think she loves you, because you’ve known her as long as you’ve known me. I know you think she’s beautiful and innocent, and you’re addicted to that innocence. I hate her. I hate her because you love her when I’m _right here._ I’m the one you come to with any problem you have because I can offer a neutral standpoint and make you think. I’m the one you can watch anything with and laugh over everything about. I’m the one who’s forever in your debt because of the things you’ve done for me, and I’ve earned my keep twice over by doing whatever I can to prove my worth.

 

You tell me you love her innocence, but then you say you hate how you can’t even talk to her because she’ll agree with whatever you say and praise whatever you do. I offer resistance, I make you challenge yourself, challenge the way you think and force you to open your mind to more possibilities than she ever could.

 

I told her once that I liked you - before I’d fallen in love and before the two of you got back together, you know? She was still with that utter bastard she’d been dating for three years. She told me it was sad that you’d never feel the same way about me, and that I should ‘just get over you.’

 

I think its hilarious - not a week later, she breaks up with her boyfriend and comes back to you.

 

You - you fucking cock. You just accepted it, accepted her, as if nothing had ever happened.

 

YOU were the one who broke up with her. You told her that you loved her, but you couldn’t be _in love_ with her for fear of losing her. For fear that you weren’t in the _right_ kind of love with her.

 

I hate how we tell each other everything. I hate that you came to me about everything you did with her, because I’m your best friend - your roommate - and I could offer you consolation and advice about things you were unsure about in the relationship. You gave her everything and I was the one who had to soothe over your insecurities and offer encouragement about a relationship that kills me to see unfolding every day.

 

You didn’t even bat an eyelash when I fucked two different people in one weekend because being around you has _ruined_ me. The first one was the biggest mistake of my life and probably ruined a friendship because I hated it so much. And do you have any idea how guilty I felt when _he_ came over that weekend and left bites and bruises all over my body? How mortified I was when you jokingly told me you could hear us in my room? I felt like the worst piece of shit on the planet - like I’d been cheating on you.

 

 _You didn’t even care._

 

I haven’t even talked to him since then. Every time he kissed me I felt miserable, I was waiting for it to make the pain go away and yet it never happened.

 

You’re the only man I’ve ever met who has taken a genuine interest in the things that I enjoy - you challenge me and encourage me more than anyone ever has. I hate that I love that about you, I hate that you can’t see what you’ve done to me.

 

The worst part? I can see the rest of my life waiting for you to notice me - as you marry her and have children and grow old together.  
I don’t even know if I regret having fallen in love with you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik live together. Charles is ridiculously in love with Erik, while Erik is obliviously in love with Magda.

Thinking back, it might have been silly of me to have skipped my classes for the day in order to achieve some time alone to spend with you. (Just as friends, of course.) I haven't honestly seen you almost the entire week without another person added to the mix.

Imagine my surprise upon walking into the kitchen this morning for a drink and hearing her giggles coming from your bedroom. Until now, I never thought myself capable of hating someone's laughter. The sound of it incensed me, made me want to take that ridiculous metal bat - the one you insisted on buying and keeping by the door - and smash it into her head. Of course, her laughing interspersed between a few choices moments of silence and the occasional moan between the two of you, but still...

I'm relatively good at controlling my emotions, as you know. I've had a few maudlin moments these past few days and I apologize if you've been picking up on it. I cleaned up the pellets from the airsoft guns that covered the floor and washed them for reuse - not for me, but because I know you'd want to conserve the ammo. Did you know that I was outside your room the entire time? That I could hear the smacking of your lips each time the two of you kissed? That could pick up the sounds she drew from you every so often, and the low murmur of your voices broken only by her grating laughter?

Doubtful.

It wasn't hard to ignore, however. I just had to remind myself that she would leave and we could start watching the second season of Walking Dead together like we'd talked about. I was also thinking about the purchases I'd made this morning - I bought you a few things for Christmas with the extra money I had. I know you won't get me anything, you can't afford it, but I felt compelled to get you something. You've been complaining about not having a memory pack for the N64, I got that, and some games you spoke of. (I should be grateful that you're more into such an old console and don't desire anything for your Xbox 360 - my pocket wouldn't survive such indulgences.)

You wouldn't believe the frustration I felt when she came into my room not half an hour after I had finished cleaning. I'd asked her if she was going home or coming back (coming back, of course, how stupid would I be to think otherwise?) and gave her my debit card to pick up some liquor. It was an attempt to find a reason to like her, really, since I've been having a bout of sickness lately and didn't feel up to making the trip myself.

And then those words left her mouth.

"We're going to eat breakfast at my parent's house, but I'll get you your things when we come back. Can you wait three or four hours?"

I said yes, of course. I'm not some spiteful child who's out to grab every second of your attention. I was, however, extremely irritated that I had foregone my classes to spend a day with you without you even here. I knew you'd be back, with her, and with each day that passes, I'm learning to accept that.

Of course, not seconds later - for some ungodly reason - you thought it a good idea to come and use my bathroom to style your hair as I wrote down the brand of liquor for her to pick up. She barely gave me a second thought as soon as you were nearby, instead opting to join you in the bathroom and try to style your hair.

I was rather glad that I hadn't gotten around to eating, you know, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to stomach the sound of, "You have that cute bedhead look going on." and your lips suckling and smacking in another series of kisses.

Your hair, by the way, looked like utter shite when you came to bid me goodbye.

So now I sit here like a woman scorned, sipping a cup of strong coffee and nibbling on chocolate chips because it matters not your gender or your hormone level, sweets will always help you feel better.


	3. some mornings are better than others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every now and then, Erik does something that reminds Charles of why he loves this man so, so much.

The third time Charles woke up to yelling and banging, he brought a hand up to blearily stare at his watch. 5:00am shone cheerfully back at him, the ambience of Erik and St John’s shouts helping him to wake up. Technically, he had a half hour before he really had to get out of bed, but curiosity was getting the best of him.

Rolling out of bed, Charles opened his door to stumble into the living room and squint against the lights. Erik and St. John were on longboards, skating across the wood floor and high-fiving each other with each pass. Charles huffed a half-yawn under his breath when they noticed him.

“Morning, Charles!” Erik yelled, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed happily. Charles pursed his lips tiredly, bringing his arms up to grab the top of the hallway entry and pull - stretching his upper body and eliciting an exhausted moan from the back of his throat.

“Morning.” He yawned, toes curling and uncurling as St. John rolled out of the kitchen with wild hair and a smile similar to Erik’s. Charles narrowed his eyes.

“Are you two still drunk?” He croaked tiredly, rubbing at his face as if it would wipe away the fatigue still eating at him.

Erik laughed, stumbling over with an elated grin and wrapping his long arms around Charles’ torso. “Yeahhhh.” He said sheepishly, nuzzling Charles’ neck. Charles, too tired to even try pushing him away, took the moment of comfort to sling his arms behind Erik’s shoulder and lean on him for a moment, inhaling the scent of sweat and whiskey. He waited another second before pulling back, chest fluttering when Erik’s giant palms lingered between the curve of his ribs and his hips.

“Want breakfast?” Erik blurted, bloodshot eyes going wide at the idea of cooking. Charles laughed, shrugging and nodding.

“I would not be opposed to breakfast.” He countered. Erik drew back, stumbling into the kitchen to search for the proper utensils to make something for Charles to eat.

“Goooood Morning, Professor!” St. John slurred, having lost interest in whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen. Charles offered him a tight smile - still recalling the last time the younger man had been drunk and had stumbled into Charles’ room while he was sleeping. Charles had woken up with a hand on his chest and an erection pressed against his lower back.

“Morning, St. John.” Charles chirped back, regardless. St John came forward for his own inebriated hug and Charles sidestepped him to go into the kitchen. Erik was in the process of heating up a pan - most likely to cook an egg sandwich. The back door was open, letting the cool winter air breeze in and causing Charles’ muscles to seize and shudder.

“Want some coffee?” Erik asked, gesturing to the coffee maker, where a rigged aluminum mug sat in the place of the coffee pot. (Erik broke that two weeks prior.) Charles stifled another yawn, stretching his arms up so high that his toes curled involuntarily as he nodded.

“I made some earlier, if you want to heat up what’s left.” Erik said as Charles walked over to the coffee maker. He pulled out a cup from the dishwasher, nearly jumping out of his skin when he realized that St. John had snuck up behind him to reach for the mug/pot of coffee.

“Woah- woah!” Erik cried, intercepting St. John’s attempt to drink Charles’ coffee and pulling the mug away from him. St. John blinked blearily, eyes going wide and laughing loud upon realizing what he’d started to do. Charles stared at him for a moment, unable to stop from chuckling softly as Erik handed him the mug with a flourish.

After pouring the remaining coffee into another mug and heating it up in the microwave (one cream, two sugars), Charles shuffled out onto the back porch.

He wasn’t much of a smoker, but on early mornings, it was good to have something to kick start the day. Sitting down on one of the old wooden chairs littering the porch, Charles snatched a cigarette from Erik’s pack. St. John stumbled out, flopping into one of the other chairs and happily lighting a cig from his own pack.

Charles took a slow drag, exhaling out of his nose and then realizing the state of the back porch. His brows furrowed, lips pursing and scanning the ground. There was trash everywhere - cigarette butts, dirt, scraps of paper, even a giant black smear and streaks of blood between his chair and St. Johns.

“… what did you guys do?” Charles croaked incredulously, staring at the blood splatter near his foot in confusion.

St. John laughed as Erik stepped out onto the porch.

“What did you guys do??” Charles repeated to Erik. Erik gave him a confused look in the midst of lighting his cigarette before registering his words.

“We broke some stuff.” Erik supplied uselessly. Charles flicked his cigarette at the ash tray, tongue darting out to wet his lips and giving Erik a look that clearly requested more information.

“Pyro tried to clean it with his hands.”

“And he bled all over the porch.” Charles finished flatly, turning to stare at St. John. He was given a dopey grin and a raise of one hand encrusted in blood.

“We were born to bleed, man!” He yelped enthusiastically. Charles rolled his eyes, laughing despite himself and taking another drag from his cigarette.

“If you want to be technical, we were born to reproduce and further the creation of our race.”

Erik laughed over the sound of St. John’s scoffing. Charles shot him a look, exhaling smoke from another drag. “Breakfast.” He chided. Erik’s eyes went wide and he cursed, setting his cigarette in the hookah tray and running back into the house with a series of expletives.

Charles set his elbow on the arm of the chair with a grin, chin cradled in his palm and foot bobbing sleepily. St. John was talking about something - Charles wasn’t really sure because he’d become far too accustomed to tuning the younger man out - and Erik returned soon enough with a slightly crisp egg sandwich.

Charles was quick to eat it, listening to Erik and St. John chatter drunkenly about politics and the government before he stood to put his trash away and finish getting ready for his classes.

Changing into pants and a nice polo shirt was as far as Charles got before Erik and St. John demanded his attention again, crowding into his room to watch Charles pull socks on. He tensed, a sense of foreboding hitting him before Erik released a war cry, tackling into Charles and wrapping both arms around his smaller body, dragging the both of them down onto the bed.

Charles shrieked, squirming as Erik halfheartedly punched at his hips and arm. He kicked a leg out, trying to use his heel to shove Erik off. When that didn’t work, Charles snapped his elbow up, catching the underside of Erik’s chin. Erik bellowed, falling back and giving Charles enough time to clamber on top of him and punch him in the stomach. Erik wheezed, hand lashing out and shoving at Charles’ face.

Satisfied, Charles scooted back to put his other sock on as Erik started to laugh and gasp for air. St. John wandered back into the living room - the skritching of a longboard over the wood floors soon echoing into Charles’ room. Charles grabbed his sneakers, shoving both feet into them and fiddling with the laces.

Erik sat up next to Charles, scooting in close and grinning stupidly.

“I can’t believe you’re actually drunk at five thirty in the morning.” Charles laughed, stiffening whenever Erik’s arms slid around his chest, pinning Charles’ arms to his sides. Erik hummed out a small noise of sheepish pleasure, chin pressing into Charles’ shoulder before moving to rest his cheek there.

Charles sucked in a breath, stretching awkwardly to try and keep tying his shoes as Erik cooed and snuggled into his neck and shoulder.

“I love you.” Erik sang, giving Charles a near-painful squeeze that sent shudders through Charles’ spine. Lifting a hand from his sneaker, Charles patted the back of Erik’s wrist, taking a moment to tilt his head to the side and rest his cheek on the top of Erik’s head.

“You too, my friend.” He said softly. Erik drew back, staring blearily at Charles for a moment before breaking into another drunken smile, hand shooting up to violently ruffle Charles’ bedhead.

Yelping, Charles slapped Erik’s hands off and then pushed him away. “I have to leave in five minutes, let me tie my shoes in peace!” He cried dramatically. Erik laughed, pushing himself off of the bed as St. John returned.

Once ready, Charles shouldered his backpack and stepped out of his room. He hit the light switch, shrouding both Erik and St. John in darkness so that they followed him out and into the living room. He rode a bike to the city bus three miles away, riding that to get to his classes in order to save gas, and his watch let Charles know that he had to leave soon if he wanted to catch the bus.

“Going now?” Erik asked. Charles nodded, opening the front door and looking up in surprise when both Erik and St. John followed him out.

“I’m gonna ride on home.” St. John slurred, holding up his longboard. Charles unlocked his bike from where it was hooked to the fence lining the front porch as Erik shouted to himself and ran back into the house.

Shrugging, Charles kicked off his bike and rolled down the driveway with a parting wave.

Two blocks down, Charles glanced over his shoulder, catching site of a sillouette boarding towards him. He brought a hand up to wave at St. John, knowing that they had to go in different directions and widening his eyes whenever the street lamp lit up Erik’s lean body rolling closer on his board.

“Erik?” Charles exclaimed in surprise, kicking his pedal to get his bike rolling again. Erik laughed, throwing his hands up lazily.

“I haven’t ridden this thing in a while.” He offered weakly, still obviously drunk enough to give into impulses. Charles laughed, picking up his speed and smiling wider when Erik had no trouble keeping pace with each powerful kick of one of his long legs.

“Where’s St. John?” Charles asked over the wind. Erik shrugged, moving the board in a small wiggling motion to keep it going.

“He wiped out in the driveway. I think he’s too drunk to skate.”

Charles laughed, “What?”

Erik grinned at the memory, chuckling. “I don’t know, he went to go down the driveway and he fell into the bushes.”

Charles hopped his bike off of the sidewalk to cross the road. “Check on him when you get home, will you?”

Erik saluted, laughing softly. Charles returned it with a grin as the rest of their trip was made in silence. When they reached the large gate separating the neighborhood from the main road, Charles circled his bike around while Erik slipped under the gate to punch in the code and open it.

The few times that Erik had followed Charles to the bus stop, they’d parted ways at the gate. It took Charles by surprise whenever Erik let him bike by and then latched a hand onto the back of his bike, letting Charles pull him along on his board to the bus stop.

“How much time do you have left?” Erik wondered. Charles checked his watch, hiting the backlight and then glancing up at the long stretch of empty, lightless road.

”Three minutes.”

Erik peered up into the sky, eyes going wide. He stumbled back, pointing up into the air and bumping into Charles’ bike. Charles stared as Erik yelped and scrambled over the bicycle on his hands and knees before jumping to his feet and jabbing his finger into the air.

“Look! Look by Ursa Major! Do you see the moving light?”

Charles peered up, intrigued by Erik’s exuberance and catching sight of a wavering light slowly snaking its way past the handle of Ursa Major.

He squinted, “What is that?”

Erik dropped his hand, awe in his voice. “That’s a space station. I think its U.S.”

Charles did a double-take, looking back at the light and grinning. He rarely took notice of his surroundings, and was always delighted when Erik would point out things to him that he would have never noticed on his own. He exhaled a sound of interest, taking a glance down the road when he noticed headlights.

“Oh.. its early today.” Charles exclaimed softly upon realizing that the city bus was making its way down the road. Erik stepped off of the street as Charles moved to pick up his bike.

“Hey, have fun in class.” Erik grinned, turning to face Charles.

Charles had forgotten Erik was drunk until he was dragged into another tight hug. He bit down on a gasp, arms snaking around Erik’s neck and trying not to squirm when large hands slid up and down his back. He pulled away just before the bus stopped, looking anywhere but Erik’s face as those palms hesitated on his sides once more.

“Go the fuck to sleep.” Charles sniped, grinning when Erik pulled away completely with a laugh. Charles walked his bike up to the bus, setting it on the rack and then giving Erik one final wave before hopping on the bus.

He flustered upon looking up to see the old black woman who drove the bus giving him a smirk and swiped his pass before stumbling to his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eish. I forgot to post this little thing on here. its from a few weeks ago. D:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles drunkenly writes a letter to Erik that he'll never see.

Your perfection never ceases to rip the previously-tattered remains of my heart into an incomprehensible pile of doubt and self-loathing. You do foolish things, childish things, in fits of excitement that only I have ever witnessed, and drag me into them. I find myself tossing a ping-pong ball into a vase across the room or engaging in pillow fights with sofa-cushions because I am the only person in this world that you will allow to see this side of you.

Except for her.

It kills me, you know, how perceptive you can be? A single night when I blurt out something I posted online - about how sometimes I'll stand in a corner when I'm feeling lonely - and suddenly the next time you see me doing so (after weeks of laughing at the oddity of seeing me with my nose to the wall) you grab my shoulder and drag me into a hug filled with such tenderness it's like you're ripping apart my very foundation.

So fuck you.

I can't even do it anymore, without you noticing. It scares me, because I don't want you to see how badly you're killing me inside. I don't want you to find out how much I just want you to hold me and press kisses to my neck and jaw out of affection and a desire to fill the emptiness in my gut with warmth and care. I want to breathe you in, climb inside of you and be safe in knowing that I'm the most important thing in your world.  
It sounds selfish of me, but perhaps that's just the poison that comes from bitterness.

She's not pregnant - we both know this now. I finally caved and told you about it, and you haggled her to keep taking the test. It turns out that it 'runs in her family' when it comes to not having a period for 5 months at a time, up to 10 months, even. Is it horrid of me to be disappointed? The poison that is bitterness and regret has made me wish that something so life-changing could tear the two of you apart, so that I may stand a chance.   
It is something dark and deep inside of me that I would never say to you or another soul in this world.

My words are erratic, I understand this. I may have had a fair amount to drink before I was overcome with my own self-loathing enough to type this up. Of course, that was after I spent a good five minutes crying more than I have since the day that mother went missing for nearly a week and turned up as if nothing had happened. I'm not one for crying, as you know - moments of depression, yes, but it is rare for a single tear to fall from my eye - even on days where I don't even have the motivation to leave my bedroom.

I find it silly, how I sit here, typing this with my eyes swollen and red from tears, and you sit obliviously in your room, playing the pokemon game I let you borrow when I first moved in.

It reminds me of New Years - do you remember? I'm sure you do, but I doubt you recall the one thing you said that was like a punch to my very soul. We were sitting in front of the television, in the midst of a drinking game - when Remy asked you about your previous year before I moved in where you lived utterly alone.  
You told him you were just as happy now as you were being alone.

To me, it was if you were confessing that, no matter how much affection and caring you show me, you wouldn't bat an eyelash if I were to flicker from existence and eradicate myself from your life.

I don't even know how to handle this anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> gpoy. fml.


End file.
